


Photo op

by verdantspace



Series: I see red (How could someone wicked walk 'round free) [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bands, Crossover, M/M, Omega Keith (Voltron), don't mind me as it grows bigger n bigger, holy schmoly this thing has a mind of its own, omega tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 06:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12271041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdantspace/pseuds/verdantspace
Summary: A reporter's point of view to the lives of Tim and Keith. The beginning of a major headache for Jason. Oh, and Dick is being his supportive self.





	Photo op

**Author's Note:**

> Can u believe 3 updates in 2 days wow I'm officially an Extra(tm) ...also how did this turn into a dang series pls blame my brain n the shit it spews out at 5am ;_;
> 
> The reporter's pov on the 1st half of the fic is basically me channeling myself into this lil universe,, I regret nothing :^) and this is supposed to be funny bc I like to think that I'm funny but well...tell me what u think lol

Like most airports settled on the busiest part of major cities, this one is also bustling with people—carrying a big luggage, a simple handbag, or nothing at all—chasing the clock, trying to keep up with the continually changing schedule on big neon screens. Okay, I know you’re not here for my airport narrative so I’ll spare you the details and get to the real tea; the two young men sitting in front of me, dressed comfortably in their _airport fashion_ —see, I was going somewhere with that opening scene.

They’re one of the most popular bands of the year, bearing the scarlet color on their title—The Rouges. An inside source tells us that the name is symbolic of what they represent; bold, sultry, _rebellious_ , but it may simply be just because the color red looks damn _good_ on them. You can take my statement on that one because I’m getting firsthand experience—Keith’s nails are painted holographic red, contrasting beautifully with slender fingers wrapped in fingerless gloves, and the precision of Tim’s winged liner—I’m guessing he’s found other uses for Jeffree Star’s Unicorn Blood—is to _die_ for.

This reporter is trying hard to catch her breath, because it’s ten in the morning and no creature on Earth is supposed to look _that_ good.

Tim’s the first one to offer his hand, and we exchange hellos with an added _hope you had a good night’s sleep because I sure as hell didn’t get one_ from Tim as he gestures at his eye bags. It’s all in good nature, though, because he breaks into a laugh shortly after. Keith’s handshake only features a tired smile, but he politely offers me a glass of water that he actually _delivers_ to me. (Oh my God, it’s a glass of water from _Keith Kogane_ , I am not _worthy_ ). Tim proceeds to shove a bag filled with a dozen of Maqui’s frozen cheesecakes onto my lap, but not before nabbing two pieces for himself and his partner, wiggling his eyebrows for good measure.

How anyone could ever accuse these boys for being rude and unfriendly is beyond me.

We settle on a generic couch to start the interview (“conversation,” Tim corrects with a lopsided smile, “you’re a friend, Jules, has been since you started defending us from bigoted reporters who refuse to see past our O status, and he have conversations with friends. Not interviews.”)

This reporter may have died and went to heaven for .02 seconds, but she refuses to meet an early grave before completing this article, so you’re welcome.

 

**How are you feeling right now, all good?**

Keith (K): After an eight hour flight? Peachy. But it’s a chance to finally meet and thank you in person, so yeah, I feel pretty good.

Tim (T): (laughs) What he said.

 

**Thanks, boys, that is so sweet. Anyways, International flights are part of the job, is anyone having trouble adjusting?**

K: Tim doesn’t really sleep on flights, and he could be a pain in the ass to deal with after long hauls—like this one—but I usually just sneak in a sleeping pill with his vitamins and boom, problem solved.

T: I’m sure that’s illegal in at least sixty percent of the world, so don’t follow Keith’s example, kids.

 

**On the topic of following Keith, how does it feel to be the biggest fashion icon of the year?**

K: To be honest, I wasn’t really expecting that. I won’t downplay it—I _do_ put an effort when it comes to dressing up, but the end goal was never to be an _icon_ or anything. I just wanna look good for the cameras because _one_ simple wardrobe malfunction and we somehow end up trending on twitter. Never a great experience.

(At this point, Tim, the reigning champion of Disastrous Pap Shots, only shrugs his shoulders. “Feel free to take some pics now,” he offers as he finger guns my cameraman—who proceeds to choke on his own spit.)

 

**You guys were the face of last month’s Vogue, were you involved in any of the creative process?**

T: God, no. We were too busy trying not to rip something off—because y’know, satin and lace look so fucking _fragile_ —and not look constipated while doing so because we were there to serve aesthetics. It was nice when we got into the flow of things, though, and the professionals around us made it so much easier to just concentrate on posing.

K: True. Tim’s always on top of his game when it comes to official photoshoots, so I kinda just followed him.

T: Quote me on this; Keith Kogane looks good on pap shots because it doesn’t require posing. He’s a sack of potatoes, who happens to be very hot, and he takes advantage of his partner’s _fluid grace_ on _real_ photoshoots. Lord knows I don’t get paid for that particular job description.

(We all launch into a round of guffaws that Keith doesn’t find amusing. My cameraman manages to capture his _adorable_ pouty face. Scroll down for the scoop and maybe frame it on your wall.)

 

**Okay, boys, settle down, let’s talk about the album. Iron Birds is on top of every chart on every music program on the face of the earth. We’ve seen a lot of articles asking for the meaning behind every song so let’s not bore you with that. What I’m curious about is the writing and producing, because there are rumors that you traumatized a bunch of executives on your label when they changed the arrangements of some tracks without asking for your permission.**

K: That was mostly Tim. He gets super territorial when it comes to producing the tracks, and we’ve made it very clear that we wanted to be involved in the making of this album—every step of the way. So it kinda sucked when some of the executives made changes behind our backs.

T: One of them had the _gall_ to argue by mentioning our agreement, so I slammed the contract—whole two hundred plus pages of it; highlighted, color coded, and dog tagged, of course—in front of his face and told him to find just where, bitch, _where_ does it contain any clause that allows you to make changes without consulting us? Nullville, that’s fucking where.

K: (laughs) Our manager actually called for security because Tim was this close to cause bodily harm.

T: The guy stood on the doorway with his baton between his thighs, Keith, did they really think he could _secure_ me?

K: Okay, Terminator, you’re a 5’5” menace with the ability to terrorize board meetings where everyone leaves in immediate need of a therapy, we _know_. Just don’t drop a corpse on me anytime soon because jails don’t smell nice.

T: Somebody fix my moral compass because with the kind of bullshit I have to endure from the higher ups every other day, it may finally break completely.

 

**So you took over the producing?**

T: With an iron fist. Everything had to go through me, and I don’t care if we’re on tour, or just finished performing, or in the middle of an interview, _nothing_ gets past without my approval.

 

**Wow, Tim, do you even rest?**

T: There are too many conspiracy theories on the internet claiming that actual coffee flows in my veins, so there’s that.

K: It even got past the meme stage and went right into conspiracy theory realm. I’m kinda proud of you, man.

T: Thanks, Keith. It helps that you’re the one who writes the lyrics so I don’t have to worry about that, at least.

K: I just don’t like the idea of your word vomit making its way into our lyrics, dude, and believe me when I say I’m doing a favor for our fans.

 

**We know that you’re the one behind the words, Keith, but do you ever feel the urge to sing those words? We all know that you’ve got a lovely voice. No offense, Tim.**

T: None taken, because I know for a fact that this guy can sing and is really freaking good. He’s just being a shy bean about it.

K: Shut up, Tim. Also no, I’ve never really felt the need to be the one singing the lyrics because this asshole does a really good job at delivering the message (“thanks, Mullet, you’re an Angel,” flows from Tim’s mouth without preamble). And when we recorded the songs, Tim paid extra attention to my inputs on how to sing certain parts, so I don’t really feel like my contribution to the lyrics has to get past the recording booth. It’s all good.

T: This is still tentative, but I’m writing a piano number and if we’re lucky, we might have Keith on the mic for that particular song. Pray for me, folks, I’m using every weapon in my arsenal to try to persuade this guy.

(The exasperated look that Keith gives Tim is filled with so much fondness that it makes me swoon a little in my seat. These precious boys.)

K: Good luck with that, Tim.

 

**Time for quick questions! These are questions from fans that were taken from our social media pages, so get ready. Number one, what’s one habit of your partner that you want to erase from the face of the Earth?**

T: This isn’t a habit, more like a phase, maybe...? He’s been so into swatching eyeshadows lately, and he’ll literally purchase tons of palettes to swatch them on his arms, his thighs, his calves, _everywhere_ , and after he’s finished with all the colors he just goes and discards the stuff (“I _donate_ them, Tim—) and to be perfectly honest, it’s not fun to wake up to eyeshadow stains on your furniture. The metallic, the matte, and the satiny ones. God, now I know stuff about eyeshadows and I actually hate the thing. Thanks, Keith.

K: This weirdo has orgasms over eyeliners but claims that he hates eyeshadows. I’m so looking forward to the day the internet calls you out for being a fake.

T: They’re two very different stuffs, Keith.

K: They’re both meant to be applied on your _eyes_ , Tim, what the heck is so _different_ — Okay, you know what, fuck you. You and your habit of not finishing your snacks and leaving them lying around all over the apartment.

T: (gasps) I put them in _Ziploc bags_ , Keith—

K: And leaves them on the couch for people to _sit on_ , what the hell is wrong with you.

T: I get forgetful after I receive important phone calls!

K: He has eidetic memory, so please don’t buy into that bullshit, people.

 

**Steady, boys, don’t hurt each other. Okay, number two, what’s the one quality of your partner that you’re grateful for on a daily basis?**

T: Keith dresses up very nicely, and he also dresses me up very nicely.

K: We have actual stylists for that, Tim.

T: I prefer your sense of style. I don’t know, it just fits me better.

K: I’m billing you starting tomorrow.

T: Go ahead, it’s not like I don’t have the money.

K: (slaps Tim on the head) For me, it’s his tendency to finish constructing all my legos. Seriously, where do you even fit that in between our schedules? And how do you even get to _my_ lego sets before _me_?

T: You leave them lying around unfinished, Keith, and I don’t like it when tiny lego pieces gets everywhere in our apartment.

K: Your room is a pigsty.

T: Um, the word you’re looking for is ‘organized mess’. Be sure to use it correctly from now on.

 

**Number three, and I know you must be fed up with this but please bear with me. What do you look for in an Alpha?**

T: Is the question limited to Alphas? Because my answer would also be very limited; I don’t really look for anything past their knots.

K: Wow, okay, what a way to pass into NSFW territory, Tim. I know you're not that cold, man, come on. It's Jules and we've decided, haven't we? No masks.

(This reporter almost lets out a gasp because this is an unexpected development. We all wait with bated breaths as Tim and Keith have a little stare-off, until finally Tim sighs, a weary smile on his lips.)

T: If I really have to elaborate; in the twenty something years that I’ve lived, I haven’t had the pleasure of being courted by an Alpha who sees me beyond my secondary gender. When faced with Alphas, I’ve never been Tim Drake. My worth is never measured beyond my qualities as an Omega—to be bred and be a little trinket to decorate the household. It may sound bitter and petty but well, who can blame me? I try to look for the best in people, but most people have disappointed me as soon as my O status comes into light. Call me prejudiced, but there are actual dangers that I face in front of Alphas—ones who don’t respect boundaries and feel like they’re the most entitled species on the face of Earth. So instead of the word ‘prejudiced’, I prefer the word ‘cautious’, and— Fuck this, I’ll just lay it bare because this article is yours, Jules. Something in me is maybe, _maaaaaaybe_ still waiting for someone to prove me wrong, to assure me that I don’t need to have contingency plans in case a meetup with an Alpha goes bad. My curse is that I’m very thorough; it’s my nature as Tim Drake. So it’s going to take _a lot_ to convince me, and I don’t think that it’s gonna happen anytime soon. Thus, for the time being, knots.

K: I love it when your word vomits have actual context.

T: You’re welcome, Keith. Now it’s your turn.

K: I like... gentle Alphas.

(At that, Tim’s eyes seem to gleam, like he knows something we don’t know, but this reporter knows better than to pry it out of Tim. He’d just dodge the question with a well-timed pun, and to be perfectly honest with you, dear readers, there are some things that I’d prefer the boys to keep to themselves. Respecting celebrities’ privacy is a thing, you know. Never forget.)

 

**That’s it for today, boys, and thank you so much for your time! Good luck with tomorrow night’s show but before that, get some of that sleep. Tim, I’m looking at you.**

T: (laughs) Your wish is my command, Jules. Do you have a ride back to the office or do you want to hitch a ride? Keith’s driving.

K: This asswipe takes advantage of the fact that I was best pilot in our Academy to pressure me into driving him around. Why is this my life.

T: You can refuse, y’know.

K: I’m driving.

 

Unfortunately, this reporter can’t take them up on the lovely offer—the woes of a working adult—but she does get a hug from each of the boys. The morning ends in a very pleasant note, indeed, and yes, I am as excited as you are to watch The Rouges’ live performance on SNL tomorrow night. Don’t miss it!

 

* * *

 

 

Jason Todd chuckles in amusement and continues to scroll down for the rest of the article. It’s signed by one _Jules Miyamoto, freelance reporter at ModernQuills_ , and it’s one of the few articles that have been referenced to him by Bruce. There isn’t much to see after the narration ended, just a few photos of The Rouges—of _Tim and Keith_ —which are mostly candid shots and some premeditated ones.

Jason tries not to snort milk through his nose when he realizes that the boy with the blue eyes ( _Tim_ , he reminds himself) looks like a legit _hot mess_ in every single one of the candids. If his eyes aren’t half closed, it’s his mouth that hangs open like his jaw is having a cramp, and there’s one where he’s looking at Keith with a scandalized expression, eyes blown wide and mouth slack, nostrils almost flaring. Jason can’t quite decide if the expression is genuine or exaggerated. What he knows is that it’s fucking hilarious.

Nevertheless, on the ones where they ask him to actually pose, he’s a vision to look at. He has midnight black hair, escaping the confines of his beanie in gentle curls around his face. His mouth is thin but pouty, tinged with a noticeable pink color that looks so lovely whenever it’s stretched around a smile. Both of them are very pretty, actually, equipped with the softness that’s so distinctively _Omega_ , pale skin and slender build and gently sloped bones.

One might get the illusion of subservience until they peer into their eyes.

Keith’s are so _expressive_ ; huge and deep violet in color. His eyelashes are long and thick, so much to the point that Jason can actually see them _curl_ through the shitty quality of the photos. It’s a pair of eyes that gives the impression of always staying alert, clear gaze never missing anything, with a perpetual fire burning behind them.

Tim’s are a pair of pale blues, so light to the point of _arctic_ , sharp and slanted on the edges. He also has huge circles under his eyes, perfectly visible because Tim doesn’t bother to put concealers on. Jason has never considered eye bags to be sexy until now, because the defect only serves to deepen the shadows around Tim’s eyes, adding a layer of mystery that’s just begging to be unraveled.

Shit, they are so _gorgeous_.

He doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for a while, until a presence makes itself known behind him.

“Whatchu looking at, Jay?”

Dick’s voice almost makes him drop his laptop, and he applauds his trained reflexes for gripping the device fast enough to avoid disastrous results.

“Jeez, Dickie, give a man a warning, will ya?”

Dick only laughs in the face of his complaint, “It’s the living room, Jay, why do I have to be careful in my own living quarters?”

His comment makes Jason look around and yes, they are indeed in the manor’s living room on a Saturday morning, so it makes sense that he won’t get any sense of privacy. Well, it’s not like he’s hiding the fact that he’s currently researching about a band which members consist of two gorgeous, unmated Omegas.

Dick is still ogling him with a curious look on his face, so Jason decides to save his breath and offers Dick his laptop as a way of explanation. The photo of Tim and Keith lounging on a generic airport couch with their arms around each other is enlarged on the display screen, and it doesn’t take long for the other man to react.

“Oh, wow,” he hears his brother say, and the Alpha pushes forward without overture, making itself known in the sharpening of Dick’s eyes, the shift of his shoulders, and Jason can totally relate. Being Bruce Wayne’s son means extensive lectures and actual _trainings_ in self-control, especially in the presence of Omegas, but it still doesn’t stop Jason’s inner Alpha from responding to Tim and Keith. And all this is because of some friggin’ _photos_.

“Yeah, wow,” is Jason’s coherent reply.

“They’re...” Dick squints as he scrolls up to skim through the article, “in a famous band? Two Omegas?”

A crease appears on Jason’s forehead. He still doesn’t know how he feels about that information, and judging from Dick’s tone, his brother is facing the same predicament. Both Jason and Dick know better than to assume that all Omegas are helpless beings that need protection, a lesson that’s been drilled into their beings ever since Bruce has taken them under his wings. That said, they are still aware of the dangers, all the bad things that can happen under the design of bad people, and at the end of the day, they are _Alphas_ ; brimming with the instinct to take care and protect.

In addition to being an Alpha, Dick is also a police officer, so Jason can only imagine the turmoil that his brother must be experiencing.

“Please tell me they’re _at least_ mated.”

Jason turns to Dick, doesn’t even bother to hide the wince forming on his face. “Nope. And it ain’t look like they belong in any pack, either.”

“Good Lord,” Dick actually runs a hand through his face, “that’s trouble waiting to happen right there.”

“Tell me 'bout it.”

They’re both silent for a few seconds, both trying to calm down and soothe their Alphas’ instincts to _find, protect, keep them away from danger._

When the stillness gets too much, Jason drops the figurative bomb.

“’m gonna meet them next week.”

Dick snaps his head so fast Jason fears he might get whiplash. “You’re a fan?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that,” he quickly denies, “remember that part time job Bruce referenced to me? I got a call back and they want me to meet the clients next week. They,” he gestures to his laptop, “are my employers.”

The horrified surprise on Dick’s face is so blatant and honest that Jason can’t help but to sigh and hang his head in defeat. He’s still looking at the ground when he feels Dick’s hand on his nape, the weight of it familiar and sturdy ( _pack, family_ ), and Jason leans into it. He lets Dick massage tense muscles beneath flesh and for a moment, all is right again in the world.

“Hey, Jaybird,” Dick says suddenly and Jason hums, acknowledging the old nickname, “you’re gonna be a bodyguard of two unmated Omegas who also happen to be celebrities.”

A loud groan grates itself out of Jason’s throat. “Thanks for spellin’ it out for me, Dick.”

The older Alpha laughs, and Jason wants to punch him in the knot for finding the whole situation somewhat _amusing_.

“No, no, what I mean is,” Dick tilts his head up with fingers under his chin, and Jason wonders (not for the first time) where the Wayne pack seem to displace their sense of personal space because everyone just touches everyone so _liberally_ , “you think you got what it takes to keep them save, under your protection?”

The gleam in Dick’s eyes is half harmless teasing, half Alpha challenge, and Jason reacts to it on a visceral level. They’re sworn brothers, and Jason loves Dick with a fire of _passion_ , but the flames light up Jason’s affection as much as they fuel his competitive streak.

(If Bruce could see them right now, the Beta would hide a sigh behind his mug, mumbling _predictable Alphas_ under his breath. It’s just his luck that he ends up with two adoptive sons and one biological son, every single one of them carrying the Alpha gene.)

“Oh, it’s _on_ , Dickie,” Jason claims, standing to full height and uses the few inches he has on Dick to intimidate the other Alpha, “Gym. Now.”

As he turns around to grab his boxing equipment and head towards their private gym, Jason’s sensitive hearing picks up Dick’s little purr of satisfaction—tinged with a touch of anticipation—and relishes in the sound. It’s gonna be a _great_ workout.

**Author's Note:**

> Dude I'm. Idek anymore this keeps writing itself n I just dk if I even have a pairing endgame in my mind?? I mean I've always wanted to write Sheith and/or Jaytim (or Dicktimjay who am I kidding) but now that it reaches this point I kinda? Will be sort of okay if the pairings listed in the tags won't be endgame lmao.
> 
> I mean I rly like the idea of Tim n Keith riding into the sunset while kissing the Alphas' asses goodbye, or maybe Tim could snag Shiro n Keith would be the one that ends up with Jason, and I rly like writing that lil Jaydick at the end hoLY FRACK MY HEAD IS A MESS(TM). Or maybe we could be diplomatic n let em be a in an orgy. Yup.
> 
> IM KIDDING HSDAAS but I'm not kidding when I said I'd be fine w/ whichever endgame bc my multifandom, multishipping ass is So Very Easy it won't hurt me to roll from one pairing to another w/o a hitch. But that said, I'm just trying to say that u are very welcome to be as liberal as possible when u read this series n imagine whatever endgame u want ;) If I continue writing abt this AU in the future, I will post the fics in a way that allows u, dear readers, to stop reading at one point n let ur imagination soar instead of letting my crappy writing restrain u :"")) hope u're ok w/ that bc I'm so liberal w/ Everything n my fics aren't an exception ehehe
> 
> Also!! If u wanna come n have a lil chat I'm on twitter ;) --> [@timmydraqe](https://twitter.com/timmydraqe)


End file.
